


Cutting Wounds

by NeverComingHome



Category: So Weird
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 14:30:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/901370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverComingHome/pseuds/NeverComingHome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set pre&post series. Rebecca is from Season 1 episode 9 in which Fi meets an old friend of her mothers' who never ages.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cutting Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> Contains: underage kissing (kind of)

When they met Rebecca was walking along the beach, humming the words to a tune she thought was only in the early morning noise of wind, sand and ocean. Her eyes on the water she  nearly stumbled into the hole Molly Phillips was seated in with her guitar, just as oblivious to the humming until it was all but on top of her. 

 

“Wow, this is really deep.”

 

“Yeah, sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

 

Molly pushed the guitar out of the way and the two girls struggled for equilibrium out of the hole just in time for the tide to come in and sweep Molly’s guitar out to sea. Rebecca didn’t think twice and took off before Molly could even figure out how far out it had gotten. The salt wormed its way into scratches her bare feet had picked up on her walk, but Rebecca ignored it, pulling the guitar to her by its neck and swimming back. Molly hadn’t objected to the strange girl diving out to save it, but the smile on her face showed that she was properly impressed. 

 

“There you go.”

 

“Thanks.” She held it at her side with one hand and stretched out the other. “I’m Molly Phillips.”

 

“Rebecca.”

 

Molly waited, but she didn’t say anything else so instead she scratched the back of her leg with the smooth side of her foot. 

 

“Do you want to head into town? They have this sunrise smoothie at Jameson’s that’s awesome and I have a two for one.”

 

Rebecca pulled strands of wet hair from her face with two thumbs and nodded, “Okay, that seems fair.”

 

“What was that song you were singing?”

 

“Oh nothing, really, I made it up to the tune you were playing.”

 

“Hey I made mine up too. Do you like music, I mean obviously everyone likes music, but do you like making it because not everyone likes that part.”

 

Rebecca bit down on her lower lip to keep from chuckling, “Yes, I love it.”

 

“Cool.”

 

“Cool.”

 

 

Rebecca had had friends before and Molly had met strangers she felt like she knew forever, but the ease with which their friendship progressed was new and familiar in the right ways. Molly feuded with her parents over the same things Rebecca did: trust and why it was required for them to give, but not receive. The circumstances were different, but the emotions were the same. Rebecca would flick through anthropology journals while Molly argued her side of not being able to choose her high school electives which would’ve had less anatomy and more instrument courses. When the tables were turned Molly would strum her guitar while Rebecca ranted about letting go of family traditions once in a while so she could have some sort of life outside their past.

 

Rebecca would assure Molly that high school was just the beginning of her life and that there were always clubs she could join, not to mention all the opportunities once she was sixteen and could drive with college coming along after that. Molly would ask about her families traditions, genuinely interested and distracting Rebecca with the task of not revealing too much, but sometimes asking things Rebecca never thought to.

 

They balanced each other and a month felt like a decade for the way they acted. Late at night Rebecca would pull out the triple locked chest from her closet and remind herself that Molly Phillips was a teenager and all it took was a slip of the tongue to change things. Rebecca would never look the age she was, but it didn’t keep her from feeling like a fourteen year old, restless with youth and the prospect of a life measured in centuries. 

 

All Molly Phillips knew was that life had given her Rebecca, someone who was spontaneous but rational and was surprised by the little things Molly’s cynical teenage self publicly scoffed at, but privately enjoyed. Things like spending all day watching the tides and talking about nothing, deep conversations they forgot about until they were about to part ways and Molly wrapped her arms around Rebecca’s neck and waited for the gentle squeeze of Rebecca hugging her back. They had sword fights with branches and learned how to do moss graffiti, peppering the side of buildings with green peace signs and M+R = BFF. Rebecca got a drum set and they sold lemonade while playing impromptu songs like they were in a video and used the money to guy candy for horror movies where Molly threw popcorn at the screen whenever there was a jump scare that made Rebecca press her face into Molly’s shoulder with a squeak. 

 

Molly liked Rebecca because she made her feel like she was old and young all at once, she spoke to her like she was an adult and sometimes when they had sleepovers Molly would look over and see Rebecca staring at the ceiling with tears in her eyes, but smile and not wipe them away when she noticed Molly staring. 

 

“Why are you crying?”

 

“Because I’m happy.”

 

“Sometimes I’ll be watching a really corny movie and I’ll start crying and I don’t know why, like the movie doesn’t even have to be really sad, but if the character reminds me of someone I know I’ll think of that person going through what they’re going through and it makes me cry. Stupid huh?”

 

“No, not at all.”

 

“Why are you crying?”

 

“Today’s the birthday of someone I really liked and I didn’t remember until just now.”

 

“Is it too late to call them?”

 

“He’s dead.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Molly placed her hand, palm up, on the blanket between them and Rebecca placed hers atop of it.

 

“What was his name?”

 

“Lao.”

 

Molly nodded then sat up. “Come on.”

 

“Where?”

 

“Let’s make a cake.”

 

“It’s two in the morning.”

 

“And your parents are at that night ceremony thing until five. Up and at ‘em.”

 

So they made a cake, took it back to the fort they made while it was baking, sang “Happy Birthday Dear Lao” then rode out their sugar buzz listening to records and coming up with kid names that would guarantee  a very hard life for a child. 

 

~*~

The day before Rebecca’s birthday Molly suggested a bonfire with the intention of telling Rebecca she loved her. She didn’t think of what she’d say so she wouldn’t get nervous, but in the end it didn’t matter because she was nervous anyway.

 

“I love you.”

 

“I love you too.”

 

“Not in a friend way.”

 

 “I know.”

 

“Oh god you do, you totally do and that’s why because you always like…know.”

 

“I can’t tell you I feel the same way, Molly.” She felt her heart drop and float out to sea like her guitar did the first day they met, but just like then Rebecca saved it thoughtlessly, “I mean I do, but I shouldn’t be telling you when it‘s impossible  right now, probably forever if my parents have their say.”

 

“…Can I kiss you?”

 

Rebecca looked away from the fire having expected to be greeted with an argument, but Molly’s thoughts had stopped at “I do” and refused to progress further. Rebecca didn’t think anyone had ever stared at her like Molly was then and in absence of reply Molly kissed her. It was innocent and soft, a smear of vanilla ice cream on the corner from the cones they’d been eating. Rebecca felt a desire flame within her, one she hadn’t bothered to acknowledge or perhaps hadn’t thought to. For the first time since she came to America she thought of things like tongues and how warm the sand would be with her knees in it and a Molly who knew what she was doing beneath her. A Molly Phillips who wasn’t fourteen years old and had a crush on her.

 

She pulled away. 

 

“Let’s go swimming.”

 

Molly’s licked her lips, but nodded, “Okay!”

 

 

~*~

That night at  Rebecca’s Molly dangled her arm off the bed. Rebecca tugged on it.

 

“You asleep?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I want to tell you something.”

 

“I already know you hate thw poster, but I like it and it’s staying.”

 

“Something else.”

 

Molly opened her eyes. "What?"

 

“You mean so much to me and I know you know I‘m keeping something from you. I know you‘ve been wondering why I don‘t talk about where I‘m from.”

 

“We all have family stuff. I know how mad your parents would be if you told me.”

 

“And you should know why they’d be angry. You’re my best friend. After my birthday dinner I’ll show you the archives. They’re staying with us before my dad’s people come to pick them up.”

 

“Promise?”

 

“Pinky, ring, middle, index, thumb promise.”

 

“Cool.” Molly was grinning. “I can’t wait.”

 

Outside the door Rebecca’s parents sighed and started making calls.

 

~*

~

It’s not like anyone could be prepared for a girl who looked  fiveteen claiming to be ancestor status old, but Molly just nodded like she saw it coming. The look on her face reminded Rebecca of when she watched a stranger brave the ocean to bring back her guitar, skeptical but anticipating. By looking at her you’d think she couldn’t be moved by anyone or anything until the last minute. The deed was done or the proof was given and it was like someone took a chisel to a rock, her face breaking in two to reveal her true emotions.

 

When the bassist told her a fan wanted an autograph she let Rebecca spread out the genealogy paperwork and photos while calmly explaining them. 

 

“I wanted to tell you, to keep my promise, but I had no choice.”

 

“Why didn’t you say anything when Fi-”

 

“I still didn’t have a choice. My father died last year and my mother always regretted the move. All I want is to talk.”

 

So they did, in an empty tour bus that smelled of vodka and popcorn thanks to a band that were on a kid free tour. They went through wine and at some point Molly forgot the weirdness surrounding them and let herself fall into habits she thought were lost when she rang the doorbell of an empty house. She forgot until she laughed so hard her  forehead touched the table and when she lifted it Rebecca reached over to curl a wayward strand behind her ear.

 

“I love you.”

 

“Don’t say that.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because I was just thinking how much I wanted to hear you say that.”

 

“I know this is difficult for you, but it was difficult for me. I had to watch you become this perfect woman-”

 

Molly rolled her eyes, unable to stop herself, “Oh.”

 

“-knowing it was who you always were. “

 

“And what do I get from this, huh? You got to watch me become who I am, but I got to wonder what was so wrong with me that you didn’t even bother to say goodbye. I didn’t get a letter or a call and I couldn’t even move on because when I went to sleep there you were-my own personal ghost. Every time I sing that song about you my heart breaks a little more and I sing it every show.”

 

“Don’t cry,” Rebecca kneeled beside her, “I told you I’m sorry. Please.” She lifted up so their mouths were level and parted but not touching. “If I had a choice I would’ve said goodbye, but it was good I left. You’re old enough to understand that, aren’t you?”

 

But she’d never be old enough to understand Rebecca. Molly closed her eyes and when they kissed she imagined the woman Rebecca should’ve been, long hair and laugh lines around her mouth that would issue a throatier moan when Molly’s hand stole up her shirt to touch a form just barely a woman’s. Rebecca sat in her lap and they rocked and kissed until Molly opened her eyes to pull off her shirt.

 

She shook her head, “I can’t, I’m sorry.”

 

Rebecca imagined herself screaming in her mind’s eye but nodded, stealing kisses while adjusting herself and finally pulling away. They made it out of the tour bus, the charts and photos still inside where they would remain at Rebecca’s insistence. Molly leaned one arm against the bus, looking down at her.

 

“Now that the shoe’s on the other foot I can understand why you didn’t try to round the bases that last day we hung out,” she laughed, “even though I really wanted you to.”

 

“There’s still some innings left.”

 

Molly punched her shoulder gently, kissing her forehead and letting Rebecca wrap her fingers tight into the arms of her leather jacket while she did so.

 

“Call me when you’re older, kid.”

 

Rebecca smiled as a taxi flashed its lights from across the street. “Ditto.”

 

 

~*~

Jeff turned away from the leading man to the director, fresh faced and full of energy despite the morning of junkets and over the phone interviews on her latest project. She’d appeared seemingly out of nowhere with best seller after box office hit, revenues from her books and movies coupled with her youth making her a household name.

 

“So I did a little dirt digging Bea and I’m telling you this is all over the data feeds. Take a look.”

 

He pointed to a holo of a portrait from what appeared to be the twenty first century. Carnegie got up and motioned over a few of his cast mates.

 

“God she really does look like you. That’s crazy.”

 

“The rumor,” the reporter cut in, raising his voice over the chatter, “is that you’re a vampire and you’ve been around for centuries which is why all your movies are so historically accurate. I mean can we not forget that Moonshine depicted a relationship between two of the country’s greatest political figures that nobody knew about until the Edmonton diaries were found two years after the fact.”

 

“Well the Edmonton diaries proved that for the time it was a well known relationship. I’d think you of all people would know the importance of gossip and as Tailwinds proves I have a soft spot for oral history.”

 

“Which brings us back to this vampire rumor.”

 

“Oh please,” Carnegie rolled his eyes, “my little nephew could construct that in his playpen between naps. Besides the last two films I’ve done with you have been in the middle of the desert.” He slapped the reporter's knee. “If only she was a vampire, am I right?”

 

“Speaking of films and creatures that go bump in the night, Bea, you’re doing a mini series right based off a nobel prize winning and my personal favorite novel. Could you talk about it for those who don't have the pleasure.”

 

“Yes,” at this she finally engages, uncrossing her legs and turning away from the actors, “staying true to the novel I've it set in a time when there were no essence transfers and people had to get around in cars.”

 

“Which they had to walk ten miles up hill to get to," he joked.

 

 

“"So this young girl is in one of these car things with her family and they’re hunting for ghosts, but find other well known entities along the way, but as soon as they find them they’re erased from history and the memory of every other human being which slowly drives the entire family insane.”

 

“There you have it folks. Stream Tailwinds at your local Cinema and be on the look out for Bea's adaptation of The Molly Phillips Band."

 


End file.
